patrol our own streets and. . . interdict the enemy.”
“Sounds smart to me,” I told him.
“Maybe it was,” Lincoln said. “But none of us would go for it. It sounded too. . . ugly. We didn’t want to turn the other cheek or”—some fool cackled far in the back, but I couldn’t make out what he said—“anything, but we’re just not. . . like that.”
I guess Vincent hadn’t told them everything about our past dealings. One of his friends had ended up with a steel plate in his head after a night in the Ramble. Vincent convinced the guy to go to the cops. They caught the perps easy enough—the little freaks were trophy-takers, and one of them still had the gold chain he’d pulled off the guy whose skull they’d bashed in. And the DA even prosecuted. But only one of them got time, and he didn’t get much of it. That’s when Vincent first came to me. Later, I was working a job and I needed a place to meet a guy. A place I could haul him out of against his will, if it came to that. Vincent set that one up for me. He was glad to do it. He hated baby-rapers worse than fag-bashers, and that was a lot of hate.
“Who’s ‘we’?” The brunette challenged the silence Lincoln’s little speech had produced. “If I had been there, I would have—”
“Sure, Nadine, we know. We heard it all from you, a thousand times,” Lincoln told her without taking his eyes from me. “Anyway, we took a vote. And Vincent lost. That was the end of it.”
“So?” I asked him.
“I mean, it was the end of. . . ‘us,’ I guess. Vincent said he didn’t want anything to do with us. He. . . mocked us. He said, when we traded in our leather drag for lavender bullets he’d be back.”
“So?” I asked again.
“So he. . . died. From a heart attack. But now it’s like he’s. . . back.”
“You think it’s
Vincent
taking out all these freaks?” I asked him. “You should’ve gone to Ghostbusters, chump.”
The brunette laughed again, more harshly this time. Her body went along for the ride—quite a sight, and she knew it. When she caught my eye, she shrugged her shoulders to write that in italics.
“Look,” Lincoln said, “you’re not making this any easier. But I. . . we didn’t expect you would. We don’t want you to do anything illegal, all right? There’s nothing against the law in looking for somebody. Or solving crimes either.”
“You said a lot more than that,” I reminded him.
“Lincoln
always
says more than he has to,” the brunette he’d called Nadine said, snorting. She got to her feet, walked over to stand next to him. She was shorter than I’d thought she’d be, legs as heavily developed as her arms. “What we want you to do is find him,” she went on. “That’s all. Just find him, and tell us where we can find him too.”
“Vincent said—” Lincoln started, but Nadine chopped him down quick with: “Nobody fucking
cares,
okay, Lincoln?” She turned to face me, hip-shot, her eyes asking me if I liked her as much from the waist down. “
Vincent
told them you had contacts outside the country. That you’d been a mercenary, and that there was a. . . ‘pipeline’ or something you could send somebody down if they wanted to disappear.”
I let my eyes tell her she was, in fact, just as fine from the waist down. “Now you
are
talking about committing a crime,” I said. “Whole bunch of crimes if I remember my legal training.”
“You’re a lawyer?” she asked.
“No,” I told her truthfully, “but I’ve been in plenty of courtrooms.”
“So you’re not interested?” she asked, a quick lick of her lips telling me she knew how double-edged her words were.
“In what? Solving some crimes? Or committing some?”
“Right now, I’ll settle for either.”
“I might be. . . in the first. If the money was right.”
“What makes you think you
could
solve. . . I mean, find him?” Lincoln asked.
“I don’t know, pal. What makes
you
think I
“Sounds smart to me,” I told him.
“Maybe it was,” Lincoln said. “But none of us would go for it. It sounded too. . . ugly. We didn’t want to turn the other cheek or”—some fool cackled far in the back, but I couldn’t make out what he said—“anything, but we’re just not. . . like that.”
I guess Vincent hadn’t told them everything about our past dealings. One of his friends had ended up with a steel plate in his head after a night in the Ramble. Vincent convinced the guy to go to the cops. They caught the perps easy enough—the little freaks were trophy-takers, and one of them still had the gold chain he’d pulled off the guy whose skull they’d bashed in. And the DA even prosecuted. But only one of them got time, and he didn’t get much of it. That’s when Vincent first came to me. Later, I was working a job and I needed a place to meet a guy. A place I could haul him out of against his will, if it came to that. Vincent set that one up for me. He was glad to do it. He hated baby-rapers worse than fag-bashers, and that was a lot of hate.
“Who’s ‘we’?” The brunette challenged the silence Lincoln’s little speech had produced. “If I had been there, I would have—”
“Sure, Nadine, we know. We heard it all from you, a thousand times,” Lincoln told her without taking his eyes from me. “Anyway, we took a vote. And Vincent lost. That was the end of it.”
“So?” I asked him.
“I mean, it was the end of. . . ‘us,’ I guess. Vincent said he didn’t want anything to do with us. He. . . mocked us. He said, when we traded in our leather drag for lavender bullets he’d be back.”
“So?” I asked again.
“So he. . . died. From a heart attack. But now it’s like he’s. . . back.”
“You think it’s
Vincent
taking out all these freaks?” I asked him. “You should’ve gone to Ghostbusters, chump.”
The brunette laughed again, more harshly this time. Her body went along for the ride—quite a sight, and she knew it. When she caught my eye, she shrugged her shoulders to write that in italics.
“Look,” Lincoln said, “you’re not making this any easier. But I. . . we didn’t expect you would. We don’t want you to do anything illegal, all right? There’s nothing against the law in looking for somebody. Or solving crimes either.”
“You said a lot more than that,” I reminded him.
“Lincoln
always
says more than he has to,” the brunette he’d called Nadine said, snorting. She got to her feet, walked over to stand next to him. She was shorter than I’d thought she’d be, legs as heavily developed as her arms. “What we want you to do is find him,” she went on. “That’s all. Just find him, and tell us where we can find him too.”
“Vincent said—” Lincoln started, but Nadine chopped him down quick with: “Nobody fucking
cares,
okay, Lincoln?” She turned to face me, hip-shot, her eyes asking me if I liked her as much from the waist down. “
Vincent
told them you had contacts outside the country. That you’d been a mercenary, and that there was a. . . ‘pipeline’ or something you could send somebody down if they wanted to disappear.”
I let my eyes tell her she was, in fact, just as fine from the waist down. “Now you
are
talking about committing a crime,” I said. “Whole bunch of crimes if I remember my legal training.”
“You’re a lawyer?” she asked.
“No,” I told her truthfully, “but I’ve been in plenty of courtrooms.”
“So you’re not interested?” she asked, a quick lick of her lips telling me she knew how double-edged her words were.
“In what? Solving some crimes? Or committing some?”
“Right now, I’ll settle for either.”
“I might be. . . in the first. If the money was right.”
“What makes you think you
could
solve. . . I mean, find him?” Lincoln asked.
“I don’t know, pal. What makes
you
think I
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